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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29301186">Give Thanks</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/literaryoblivion/pseuds/literaryoblivion'>literaryoblivion</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Freck's Valentine Prompt Fest [4]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>James Bond (Craig movies)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Breakfast, Breakfast in Bed, Canon Compliant, Established Relationship, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Kissing, M/M</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 07:27:02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,092</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29301186</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/literaryoblivion/pseuds/literaryoblivion</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Bond wakes up after a mission gone wrong and remembers getting to the safe house at least but not the bandages wrapped around his leg.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>James Bond/Q</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Freck's Valentine Prompt Fest [4]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2143128</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>127</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Give Thanks</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Based on a Twitter prompt: do you do 00q? If yes, then the prompt is breakfast in bed :3</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>He wakes slowly, the sun shining brightly behind his closed eyelids, bright enough that he thinks it’s closer to mid-day than early morning. His entire body aches, his leg more so, and then he remembers. He’s pretty sure it’s broken… after he fell from not an insignificant height out of a window to escape capture. He vaguely recalls running on it, trying to anyway, and he’s positive he made it to…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gradually he opens his eyes, letting them adjust to the light before he looks around. He’s at the safe house. He breaths out a sigh of relief. It’s short-lived, though, and he stiffens when he hears something… someone else in the house. Instinctively, he reaches for the gun he always keeps beneath his pillow only it’s not there. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There are footsteps growing louder. He sits up quickly, regretting the movement as it pulls on his bruised side. He looks around, trying to find something he could use as a weapon, and the only thing within arm’s reach is the lamp. He moves the sheets aside to try to move himself to a better defensive position and pauses when he notices his leg bandaged up from his foot to his knee. He definitely doesn’t remember doing that. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Too stunned by the bandage, he misses the bedroom door opening. He reaches for the lamp only to freeze when he sees who it is.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m glad I had the foresight to move your weapons to the other side of the room.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Q?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Please don’t ruin your bandages by stupidly getting up. It took me a while to do.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Q steps further into the room, and in one arm he’s balancing a tray with a plate of food and a steaming mug.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why are you here?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is that your thank you? I suppose I shouldn’t have expected one. You’re welcome, by the way.” He moves to stand beside the bed, and Bond still hasn’t removed his hand from the lamp on the nightstand. Q waits, staring at Bond until he finally relinquishes his hold on the appliance and moves his hands into his lap. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sighing, Q sets the tray of food on the nightstand and moves the sheets back over Bond’s legs. He even adjusts the pillows behind Bond so he can sit more comfortably and all Bond can do is stare at the bespectacled computer-whiz in front of him playing nurse.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Q moves to pick up the tray, Bond stops him with a hand wrapped around his wrist.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Q.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>At the address, Q and Bond lock eyes, and when they do, Bond sees that Q’s are shining with unshed tears; he sees the fear and concern and anger behind them too.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I should’ve… It’s my fault that you… I--” Q cuts himself off and closes his eyes, and when he does, those awaiting tears fall down his cheeks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bond reaches up, ignoring the tightness he feels, to brush the wetness away from Q’s face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> your fault, Q,” he replies, hoping his quartermaster hears how emphatic his statement is. “Sometimes our information is wrong. It happens. I improvise.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Improvise out a window?” Q asks, eyebrow raised.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Needs be,” he answers with a shrug, then winces slightly. Q rolls his eyes with a huff, and his sadness and anger, anger at himself Bond realizes, starts to fade. “How… bad was it when you found me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It looked much worse than it is, though medical will likely need to examine your leg when we get back. I did the best I could, but I’m not a doctor.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you at least a good chef?” Bond asks, gesturing with his head at the breakfast tray.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It won’t kill you at the very least,” Q answers as he brings the tray to settle it on Bond’s lap. It’s simple enough, toast with jam, a cup of coffee, a couple eggs and beans. All of it seemed standard pantry stock for a safehouse except…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There were eggs?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I picked some up at a market around the corner this morning.” Before Bond can make a comment, “Don’t worry. I was safe. No one was around, and I took a different route and doubled-back on my way.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bond nods and takes a sip of coffee and almost instantly starts to feel better. Q starts to take his leave, but Bond asks, “Are you leaving to get your food?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I was going to eat in the kitchen.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That seems rather lonely,” Bond says, tone coming off casual though he means anything but. The look he sees on Q’s face might be hard for some to interpret, but he knows him well enough to tell that he’s torn between rolling his eyes and grinning like a fool, so it looks a bit like he’s constipated. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Q does neither and instead sighs and leaves, only to return with a mug and plate for himself. Bond pats the bed beside him when it seems like Q might try to eat on the floor, and he obliges though sits as close to the opposite side as he can so as not to jostle Bond’s leg.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They eat in comfortable silence, occasionally interrupted when Q fills him in on when the extraction team is supposed to arrive, or asking what still hurts and if he needs medication for it. When they’re both finished, Q leans to retrieve the tray from Bond’s lap, and Bond makes his move.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He grabs Q’s hand before he reaches the tray and uses his other arm to wrap around Q’s waist to bring him closer, all in one swift movement.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Bond! Your leg!” Q shouts, startled at the sudden shift in his position and waving enough to nearly upset the tray of empty dishes. He tries to remove his hand from Bond’s grip to move the tray, but Bond refuses to let go. “Bond. What--” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bond uses his other hand to tilt Q’s chin up to face him, and then leans in just enough to kiss him. He can feel the tension Q had start to melt, and slowly he responds in kind, kissing him back. There’s no heat behind it, but there is a comfort there, a sense of relief, a feeling that they are both alive and while mildly injured still okay.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He lets Q pull away from the kiss, and when he does Bond leaves one last kiss on the corner of his smile. And while he thinks his kiss conveyed enough of what he wanted to say, he gives voice to the words too,</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you.”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Come say hi on my <a href="http://literaryoblivion.tumblr.com">tumblr</a> or <a href="http://twitter.com/lit_oblivion">twitter</a>.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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